


A Little Different

by Leif Writes (FrankensteinsMomster)



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Autistic Malcolm Bright, Autistic Meltdown, Gen, Gil and Jackie are the best, JT is a Good Friend, Jessica is trying, Martin Whitly is an asshole, Stimming, Teenager Malcolm Bright, Young Malcolm Bright, autistic shutdown, people are jerks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23009698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankensteinsMomster/pseuds/Leif%20Writes
Summary: Malcolm is four years old and has his small body wedged inside of a kitchen cabinet. He's holding onto himself in a tight hug and banging his head again the inside of the cabinet while his nanny is desperately trying to coax him out and when that fails, to pry him out. He is screaming and fighting as the woman carries him back to the table where his therapist sits with a pile of flashcards, a timer, and a clipboard.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 141





	A Little Different

**Author's Note:**

> A series of moments from Malcolm's life.

Malcolm was two years old when he was diagnosed with Autism. He hummed to himself and wobbled slightly as he walked while playing in the corner of the office. His mother is in disbelief, yes Malcolm was a little different but _autism _? His father is unsurprised. It was his observations that led them to the office and subsequently the diagnosis. Malcolm is too small to understand what any of the fretting means. He giggles and falls asleep snuggled in his mother's lap.__

__..._ _

__Malcolm is four years old and has his small body wedged inside of a kitchen cabinet. He's holding onto himself in a tight hug and banging his head again the inside of the cabinet while his nanny is desperately trying to coax him out and when that fails, to pry him out. He is screaming and fighting as the woman carries him back to the table where his therapist sits with a pile of flashcards, a timer, and a clipboard._ _

__He cries and she ignores him and he doesn't understand. He doesn't know why. He just wants his mom and dad. He struggles to be released from the chair he's been strapped down in but his small body can't break loose and his fingers fail him as he attempts to undo the latch. Like magic, his knight in shining armor, his father walks in to see his struggling nanny and indifferent therapist and yells for both of them to get out of his house. The therapist starts to say something about the importance of Malcolm learning to conform to their expectations and Martin snarls, _actually snarls _, at her and she gets the point and leaves.___ _

____He makes quick work of setting his boy loose and Malcolm runs from the room. Martin finds him hiding under the kitchen cabinet, screaming and sobbing. He lays down on the floor with a tub of licorice and a box of tissues. When Malcolm's cries have settled he wipes the boy's face and hands him some licorice. They silently chew together._ _ _ _

____Eventually, the boy crawls out and curls onto his father's chest before falling asleep. Jessica finds them like that. Her stomach is round with the new baby's arrival getting closer every day and she groans as she sits on the floor next to them._ _ _ _

____"I won't do that to him again Jess. He'll learn in his own way. I'll tutor him myself." She sighs and nods to him. They'd tried things her way. Therapy upon therapy upon therapy and the only thing that seemed to have been accomplished was an ability to quickly list off lists of nouns and a newfound sense of dread and anxiety._ _ _ _

____..._ _ _ _

____Malcolm is six and a half. He's a smart kid. No one can deny that. He's far beyond his peers who were still mastering the alphabet and counting to a hundred. He could read and build intricate creations out of Lego. He could name and accurately pinpoint every bone in the human body. He could discuss nineteenth-century literature and play the piano like he was born to do it._ _ _ _

____He could also be charming. He could smile and flutter his eyelashes in the perfect way his father taught him. _What a sweet boy! A really lady killer you have there _, people would tell his father who laughed, a proud and protective arm wrapped around his small shoulders. _Oh I know, he sure is _, he'd smile._____ _ _ _

________It made him uncomfortable forcing eye contact. Smiling when he didn't want to. Keeping his hands and body unnaturally still. It made him itch, causing a thumping in his brain that wouldn't settle down until he was alone in his room with the lights out and his headphones on. But his father told him it was better this way. People trusted and believed you more when you fit in and Malcolm trusted and believed his father more than anyone else in the world._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________After Martin's arrest Jessica puts Malcolm back into speech therapy and occupational therapy and _therapy _therapy and when he tells his father about it he scoffs and rolls his eyes.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Oh yeah," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "like any of that ever did a bit of good when you were younger." He shrugs his shoulders and smiles at his son, "Mother's, huh?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Malcolm gives him the smallest hint on a smile in response before changing the subject. He appreciates all that his father taught him. How to survive, how to blend in, even though he now wonders what his true goals for any of it really was. His stomach twists in confusion and fear when he thinks about it too much._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He didn't absolutely hate going to therapy. He didn't love it but it got him out of the house and gave him something else to concentrate on. Gabrielle didn't treat him like a complete child as much as he didn't like to admit it the skills she taught him for dealing with his anxiety helped a lot more than just pushing it to the back of his mind and waiting for a meltdown. Gil would pick him up after most sessions and he'd stay on patrol with him late into the night. If going to therapy was what it took to spend more time around his friend it was worth it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He told none of these things to his father though. He was afraid, worried that he would see it as a weakness. Instead, he smiled and returned to listening to him read from the large book in his hands and closed his eyes for a moment almost being able to pretend he was back in his room and the past half a year had never happened._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________"Malcolm _not _now," she sighs and he snaps his head toward her, his face pulled into a grimace. Malcolm is sixteen and he told her he didn't want to come to the event, told her he wasn't up to it, he was mentally and physically worn out after the first week back to school and she didn't listen and now that he was embarrassing her she had the gall to tell him to stop.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He went back to rocking back and forth in his chair, shaking his head, his eyes pressed closed and appreciating the bit of peace it brought him. She didn't understand. Didn't try to understand. He was just an accessory. He was there to look pretty, smile when necessary, and make pleasant and simple conversation. Usually, he wasn't half bad at it but today he didn't have it in him to play the game and pretend to care._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________" _Malcolm _," she chided. He stood from his chair, knocking it over and stormed out of the ballroom. He could hear his mother making excuses for his behavior, you know how teenagers are, she laughed. He grits his teeth and made his way out the door, out of the building, and walked into the cold night air.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He could call their driver, call a cab, call Gil to come to pick him up but his hands were shaking and his head was pounding and just wanted a damn moment of peace but the city was so loud. It was always so loud and bright and full of people. He didn't know where he was going. He just needed to go. Needed to escape._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He tried to remember the breathing techniques Gabrielle taught him and practiced with him weekly. You would think they would be second nature by now but at the moment his mind went blank. He forced himself to take a deep, gasping breath, realizing he had been holding it in while trying to remember how to properly breathe. The irony of it all made him shakily laugh._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He wasn't sure how long he had been walking when he closed his eyes and leaned against an old brownstone building. He allowed himself to cry in anger and frustration and exhaustion and wishing for the millionth time that he could just feel a moment of peace._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Malcolm! Oh thank god, I found him!" His mother shut her cell phone and ran to him, her heels clicking against the sidewalk. She stopped a few feet short of him, he could see how desperately she wanted to hug him. To check him over and make sure he hadn't hurt himself but she held back._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"I'm so sorry sweetheart, I should have listened to you. I pushed too hard. We don't have to go back," she reached a hand to his face and when he didn't pull away she wiped his tears before taking a step closer to kiss his forehead._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Sometimes I forget. You're so strong and so good at masking and I push too hard. When you said you were tired I didn't realize you meant this."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He sighed and sniffed and held his mother's hand in his and felt her squeeze it tight like he would disappear if she let go._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Let's go home."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He was sitting at the kitchen table of the Arroyo house studying. Just because he was on winter break didn't mean he had time to slack off. If he was going to graduate top of his class he couldn't afford to skip a few weeks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Attempting to study at his mother's house was impossible. She constantly had people coming over as she organized the never-ending slew of charity events and galas. He was glad she had found something that kept her busy that didn't involve alcohol, for the most part, but he was wary of new people and the constant sound did nothing for his sense of peace or insomnia._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Ainsley wasn't much help either, in the prime of her teen years with a limitless amount of energy. And then there was the constant talking to either him, their mother or on the phone. He had given up trying to keep up. He was glad she had forged her own life amongst all the trauma they had lived through even though he didn't understand. Lots of friends, late nights out, and singing at the top of her lungs every time her song (which seemed to change every day) came on the radio. It held no appeal to him but if she was happy he was happy for her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________On his last visit, he had made the mistake of forgetting his clothes in his room. After taking a shower he made his way down the hall wrapped in a towel and ran into a group of teen girls who's giggling and words ( _Ains you didn't tell us he was hot _) caused him to blush harder than he knew possible and more embarrassed than he had been in years. Ainsley had banned him from wearing anything less than a snowsuit when her friends were over and he had decided going over to the Arroyo's was an all-around better solution for everyone involved.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He saved his work and closed his laptop. He was comfortable here. The childless couple had all but adopted him and in that process had made every effort to make their home a relaxing environment for him. They had taken to wearing socks or house slippers to soften the sound of their steps against the hardwood floors. They'd switched their lights to softer alternatives that used dimmer switches. They didn't pressure him to talk or to eat but were always willing to listen and kept a supply of things he liked just in case hunger struck him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Even now he didn't fully understand what they gained from it. They had a full and happy life before he came around to complicate it. They didn't need him and his troubled life but they wanted him. He was endlessly grateful for them and was positive he wouldn't have survived this long without having them there to cheer him on, put things in perspective, and love him like they did._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________The two of them had taken the day off to spend time with him. He packed his things away. He had come to study but some things were more important. He could always get back to it later._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Hey Malcolm," the agent waved and called to him from the entrance of the barn, like he hadn't been trying to get away from the local law enforcement since the three of them had arrived almost an hour earlier. Small, tight-knit towns like this always felt like the FBI was intruding on their business and he did his best to reassure them that everything they did while they were there would be for the betterment of the community and nothing would be hidden from them. This was, of course, a lie but a necessary one. It would have gone faster if they had stuck together like they were supposed to but the older agent seemed to have a special sort of vendetta against him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Malcolm half jogged to the barn interested in what he'd find. It was the smell that hit him first and then the surprising lack of blood that went along with it. He took it in, absorbing every detail to memory. The older agent snapped his fingers in front of his face. He blinked and attempted to suppress the annoyance in his face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"You done spacing out? Or are you doing your Rain Man thing." Malcolm grit his teeth and let out a forced laugh._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Rain Man thing?" The other agent asked._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"You didn't know? Malcolm's autistic. He's like a savant or something. Really impressive. C'mon show him" The man smirked. Malcolm realistically knew he would be dealing with people like this his whole life but it grated his nerves that someone smart enough to get into the FBI wasted his time with this level of pettiness. He clenched and unclenched his hands and bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"I wasn't," he took a calming breath and smiled. "It's not something I just turn on and off."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Are you going to actually be useful or are you just going to make excuses," the man said rolling his eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Always here to help," he replied wanting nothing more than to punch the stupid look off his face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Hey Bright you okay," JT asked. He opened his eyes to see the man's worried face. "You're shaking your leg hard enough to take off."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Sorry," a small flash of embarrassment ran through his mind and he stilled his body and began to bite his lip._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Nah, it's fine I know it helps you think. Just checking in, you do you."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"I'm close to putting this profile together. It's just these last few details." JT nodded to him and returned to the files he was looking through. Malcolm smiled and went back to shaking his leg._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> True facts, I am autistic and I have been super stressed about posting any fic involving autism because of bad experiences I've had in past fandoms many years ago. I've been working on two other stories for three months and I just couldn't get them to work so I wrote this instead. All the shoutouts to @Malclombright on tumblr who read this and gave me some reassuring feedback.


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